“How old are you?” “Sixteen. “Yes, I remember,” she said. Heaven knows what dim and tawdry conceptions of passion and desire were in that blond cranium, what romance-begotten dreams of intrigue and adventure! but they sufficed, when presently Ann Veronica went out into the darkling street again, to inspire a flitting, dogged pursuit, idiotic, exasperating, indecent. "If you've a fancy for the girl, we might do it. . I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. ” “The truth,” she murmured, with her eyes fixed upon him. Come down, I say, instantly, or I'll make you. . He has no imagination, no real generosity. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand. You need only answer me truthfully and you have nothing to fear. The servants had left the room. Into this new world, vivid with colour, came Spurlock, receptively.
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